


a quiet moon

by blxcksqvadron



Series: the in sound from way out [1]
Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Blood and Injury, Drunken Confessions, Fix-It, M/M, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Pre-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21916252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blxcksqvadron/pseuds/blxcksqvadron
Summary: jar jar abrams can fight me
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Series: the in sound from way out [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1584535
Comments: 40
Kudos: 281





	1. until it's safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (thx to robotboy for giving this all a read-over before i posted)

Sailing through the dark, there was a moment of peace long enough that Poe’s heart stopped hammering in his chest; the panic that stuck in his throat— that he preferred to think of as _appropriate vigilance_ — dissipated into a softer, more manageable nausea. Had it been days? Weeks, since he’d last had a full night’s sleep? How long had it been since—

The _Finalizer_. 

There was a tree, in the yard. Its trunk was wide and crooked, with roots that splayed out in all directions. He knew every knot by touch; a year of his youth spent tending its branches. The lush, deep green of its leaves. Of the yard, its long and fragrant grasses. Dozing in the shade of the koyo groves. A moon he hadn’t returned to for an age, lest he made himself an orphan. 

Shara, then L’ulo. Kes would _not_ be next on that too-long-too-short list. So, Yavin IV had remained a memory. _Until things calm down_ , he’d told himself. _Until it’s safe._

The _Finalizer_ , where Ren had broken into his mind as easily as one would crack the top of an egg. It didn’t matter that he’d held out for… however long it’d been. Minutes, hours? All his training, for nothing. Negotiation with hostiles, resistance to interrogation. Laugh it off, if it helps. Captain- no, _no rank on this mission_. Poe Dameron, lone agent of nothing, in the heart of the operation, forcing himself to forget the objective. 

_Think about the tree_ . Removed from context, from history; just the tree. Send the First Order on an aimless walk down the grain of its bark, turn them about on the whorls of knots. _Tell them nothing, for as long as you need to._

Only, everyone breaks, in time. His family’s sacred sapling stripped to splinters. The words curdling in his mouth, choking through blood and tears and snot. Silence, finally, though his ears had never quite stopped ringing since then. He’d wondered if he’d been left alone to die. There’d be no dignity in his death, after he’d given up the goods, but maybe BB would already be safe. 

But then Finn— oh, brave, beautiful Finn!—came to him, _kept_ coming back to him, like the galaxy couldn’t separate them for long. The Resistance, Black Squadron, his father out on that quiet moon in the Outer Rim, they were all his family, but _Finn_ … 

Poe woke with a shout, upright and drenched in space-cold sweat. He looked around, gasping, shoulders tight, hands cramped in dread. He was safe. The Falcon gently whirred and beeped around him, the cabin painted in a low, cool light. Klaud was snoring, a low snuffle in a nearby hold. He was safe. It was just a dream; one he’d been slipping into since, well, since it happened. At least this time it wasn’t while he was packed into the cockpit of an X-Wing, the world bleary around the edges in the drift of sub-light, BB-8 handling the controls. A small lapse into the dark, here and there. Just a headache, just a nightmare. _More important things at stake_. Poe raked his hair back through his fingers and sighed. 

“Hey, are you…?” 

The question was soft, the words thick with sleep. Poe looked up and forced a wan smile. Finn stood in the doorway, his face set in a weary frown.

“Hey, yeah. Go back to bed.” 

Finn generally dealt with Poe’s less ideal suggestions by ignoring them; apparently, Poe had said something less than ideal. Finn shuffled to the back of the room and sat down on the edge of Poe’s bunk. 

“D’you want to talk about it?” He stifled a yawn.

“Not really.” Poe drew his knees up to his chest. “D’you want to hear it?” 

“Kinda already did,” Finn murmured.

“Oh.” Poe’s stomach sank. Finn turned to face him.

“It’s Ren, isn’t it,” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. Poe nodded; the lump in his throat that threatened tears kept him silent. “I get them too.”

Of course. The encounter. The fight. The injury that left him unconscious in a bag for days. _Of course he’d understand_. Poe reached out for Finn’s hand and squeezed it, warm and dry against his own cold, clammy palm; Finn squeezed back without complaint, even though it must have felt disgusting. He swallowed hard, took a shallow breath, let go.

“Go get some more sleep, buddy.” He bumped his shoulder against Finn’s and resisted the urge to rest his head there for a moment. “One of us needs to look pretty for the landing.”

Finn smirked. “I always look good.” He gave Poe a firm, reassuring pat on the arm and stood up. “See you in the morning,” he said softly. 

“Yeah.”

Finn closed the door behind him. 


	2. one more thing

As much as he hated being on the ground when there was so much to be done elsewhere, disembarking on Ajan Kloss reminded him enough of home that he could bear the wait. The ramp descended and the air was immediately warm and bright, and smelled of earth and wood. All the tension from his body left as he walked through mud and moss; absent-mindedly, he touched the ring hanging low around his neck. For a moment, the technicians and the crates and machinery disappeared and he could pretend he was home. Walk along the dirt path to the koya grove, kick his boots off on the wooden porch, hug his father. Pretend hard enough, see his mother. 

“Commander Dameron,” a voice interrupted. Poe blinked.

“Commander D’Acy.”

“The General wants to see you,” she continued. Larma had a nervous expression, but she always looked nervous, so it probably wasn’t bad news. “Urgently.” 

Okay, so maybe it  _ was _ bad news.

General Organa stood at a console in the cave-hangar, flanked by half a dozen operatives.

“General,” Poe called across, long before he reached her station. She’d stopped using her cane the last time he’d flown out, and he was quietly relieved to see she was still in good health; Ren hadn’t been his only nightmare, of late. Leia turned to face him, all seriousness in her face lost.

“Poe, it’s good to see you.” She touched his cheek gently; he winced, expecting another slap. “That was a close call. A boring one, but close.” 

A light blush crept across his face. It had been a slow return to the base; a refuel mid-supply run had been forced off the itinerary, and so the Falcon had been left without the power to jump back. They’d had to drop half their cargo to lighten the load; Poe had been in a short-tempered funk for the entire flight ‘home.’ 

“What was it you wanted to see me for?”

“I have an agent in a sector recently captured by the enemy. He just received an encrypted transmission— _ from _ the First Order. Commander, we have ourselves an informant.” She turned on her heel. “Artoo has the coordinates. I need you to leave as soon as the Falcon’s ready.”

“Yes, General.” Poe gave a brief salute and looked back toward the forest; any sense of contentment he had from standing within it was long gone.

“One more thing, Commander.” 

“General?”

Leia was walking away at a speed that meant whatever she was about to say was not actually up for discussion.

“Are you ever going to tell him?”


	3. perhaps he was dying

He pretended he didn’t know it happened, and she never brought it up.

Poe lay there unmoving, every inch of his body numb. He knew that he should have been able to open his eyes, feel where he’d been shot, where he’d hit the wall behind him. He wanted to scream, to flail, to fight; ashamed that Leia had been the one to fire on him, furious that he felt he’d had to put himself in that position in the first place. Terrified for Finn, for Rose, for what remained of the Resistance after everything they’d done to try and save it. He wanted to cry. He’d wondered, briefly, if she hadn’t used the stun setting after all. Perhaps he was dying now, and that was why he couldn’t move, couldn’t feel. He missed his mom. 

Leia stood over him on the repulsorlift, the thick fabric of her cape scratching against the metal. She brushed his hair back away from his eyes, and sighed.

“Calm down, you’re safe,” she said, in a voice that Poe could not tell whether it came from inside or outside his head. “You’re so much like your mother, sometimes. I don’t know if that’s entirely a good thing.” If he could’ve felt his stomach, it would have sunk. But her voice sounded warm; there was no scolding edge to her words. “I know she’d be proud of you, of everything… well, _almost_ everything you’ve done. Maybe not this. I don’t know—maybe she’d have done the same thing.” Leia’s voice grew weary as she left him. “Just… don’t be someone else I have to miss, fly-boy.”


	4. a complicated friend

_ Are you ever going to tell him?  _

The question sat with Poe for the rest of the journey. To see the Ovissian on the station. To Pasana, where he’d felt useless and too trigger-happy, and ashamed of how jealous of Rey he’d become since she’d joined them on the Falcon. Frustratingly, to Kijimi. Seeing Zorii Bliss again— a complicated friend from a complicated undercover mission— had made things worse. Finn began to doubt him, which was probably the worst outcome Poe could think of. Finn also began to assume he and Zorii were lovers, which was selfishly the worst outcome Poe could think of. He thought of telling Finn the truth, but the words sounded fake before they even found a voice.  _ I had to huff glitterstim to get in with the cartel. I couldn’t blow my cover. I thought I was gonna die. It was so long before I met you. Please, you have to believe me.  _ He’d almost loved her, in a way. Zorii had been kind to him, held him close through the tremors and sweat and bile, and he’d cut and run as soon as he found what he’d been looking for. No wonder she’d been furious. 

_ Are you ever going to tell him? Yes. No. I don’t know. _


	5. he doesn't know

Leia was gone. Snap, too. Countless others, but then—countless _more_ had arrived, returned. What had originated as a deeply relieved and overwhelmed reuniting by a few dozen soldiers at the landing had become a party that spread across the entire forest. Craft of all shapes and sizes lit the canopy in golds and blues and reds; crates became tables, food was found, secret stashes of Corellian rum and Merenzane Gold (and more potently but less pleasantly, boga noga) were uncasked and spread amongst the surviving sprawl. 

Poe was exhausted. 

He’d been running on empty before they’d even landed back at Ajan Kloss, and that was hours, and what felt like a thousand conversations and commiserations, ago. Ducking beneath a battered B-Wing to avoid another chat, he straightened up and walked immediately into Zorii, tripping over her in the dark. 

“Easy there, Dameron.” 

“Oh, no. Oh, Zorii. I’m sorry...” Poe trailed off with a groan, face down in the dirt. He sat up with his good arm, legs still splayed out in front of him. Zorii laughed, and for the first time since they’d run into each other again, took her helmet off and set it down beside her. Poe looked up at her, head cocked lazily to one side; she was deeply tired, under the glow of victory. She put an arm around his shoulders, and he flinched. 

“Sorry,” he repeated, “I, uh, got shot.” 

Zorii sighed, and settled her hand in his hair instead. 

“So,” she said, combing her fingers back through his fringe, “a rebel pilot, a war hero, a General… you’ve been busy.” 

Poe leaned in and rested his head on her shoulder. 

“I, uh… there’s a lot. That I didn’t tell you.”

“You’re not kidding.” She raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry,” he said, again, for what it was worth.

“I know,” she said, a little sadly. Poe kicked at a pebble under his boot. 

“I…” He paused, swallowed. “Can I tell you something now?”

“Sure. About your man, right?”

Poe sat upright, eyes wide. He closed in, an anxious conspirator.

“He’s not- I mean, that’s. Wait. How did you…?”

Zorii laughed under her breath. “Kara _bast_ , Poe. You can be so dense.” 

Poe’s face contorted into a deep frown.

“I never said anything about Finn.”

“You didn’t need to. It’s as clear as the nose,” and she flicked it gently, “on your dumb, pretty face.” 

Poe’s frown became a scowl, and then softened.

“He doesn’t know,” he murmured.

“No,” said Zorii, in a sing-song voice, tucking a curl behind Poe’s ear, “because you’re both dense.” They sat in a comfortable silence, watching the shadows of trees sway under moving lights. Poe brushed his hand against Zorii’s; she let him hold it.

“What are you gonna do, now...?” 

“I don’t know,” she said softly, “find a new home, I guess.”

“You could stay with the Resistance, for a while.”

“Oh, with you? _Sure_.”

He shot her a glare. “You know what I mean. Plenty of people still need help. We could use yours.”

Zorii let go of Poe’s hand, cupped his face firmly with both of hers, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. She jostled him as she stood up, returning to the party. “I’ll think about it. _If_ you talk to your man.” 


	6. let me help you

The moons were full and high above the tree line as he finally parted ways with Wedge and Norra. They’d toasted Snap’s memory on whiskey that made Poe cough deep in his chest.  _ It must hurt so much more _ , he’d thought, _ to bury a child you thought you’d fought to protect a lifetime ago.  _ As he stumbled up the hill that hid the hangar, he promised himself he’d go home as soon as he got the chance; and comm his dad again,  _ properly _ , once he’d sobered up. On the far edge of the hill, it was quiet enough that all Poe could hear was a low rumble from the carnival below, almost entirely blotted out by the ringing in his ears. He collapsed in the long, thick grass and closed his eyes. The anaesthetic shot he’d finally been given for the blaster wound on his arm had begun to wear off, and the throbbing made the entire left side of his body feel sickly with ache. 

“Hey,” said a voice that felt very far away. Poe squinted up, one eye still firmly shut. Finn stood over him, crowned by the moon, face lost in shadow. He hadn’t seen Finn since before sundown. He hadn’t wanted to let go of him then, either, but they’d been dragged apart by ceremony, by duty.

“Hey,” Poe replied, feeling the words leave more than hearing them. He made a move to sit up, but his good arm fell from under him, and he flopped back to the ground with a pathetic grunt. Finn sat down clumsily next to him. 

“Can I…” he paused, worn out and a little drunk, his voice rough. “Can we talk?” 

Poe felt his entire body deflate with a deep, sad nausea, and wished that the hill would swallow him up. 

“Yeah, of course,” he answered. He opened his eyes properly and looked at the man beside him; the moonlight cut against his cheekbones, lit the tear streaks that he hadn’t wiped away from earlier.

“I… it wasn’t fair of me. To keep secrets from you… to say you weren’t a good leader.” Finn folded his arms over his knees, looked everywhere but towards Poe. “I was mad at you. That wasn’t right.”

Poe sighed a deep, bone-achingly tired sigh. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said quietly. “You thought you had good reason not to trust me, and the truth… well, it doesn’t sound that great, either.” Poe reached out for Finn’s hand, but ended up holding his ankle. He gave it a comforting squeeze anyway. “Did you get to say... whatever it was, to Rey?”

“Yeah.” Finn’s answer was frank; quiet, but not unhappy. Poe stayed silent. “You’re not gonna ask me what it was?”

“It’s not my business, Finn.” He closed his eyes; he was so,  _ so _ tired, and this was not a conversation he felt he could have without yelling, or crying, or, at this point in the night, possibly vomiting. Finn let out a sharp, frustrated noise. 

“Really, Poe?”

“What? If it’s between the two of you, then I don’t wanna,” he swallowed hard, willed himself not to tremble as he spoke, “get in the way.” 

“You’re impossible, you know that?” Finn scoffed. “We fight and you make me a  _ General _ , I apologise to you and you turn it into a popularity contest— you tell me nothing’s going on with you and Zorii and then-”

Poe forced himself to sit up, against his body’s protests.

“Nothing  _ is _ going on with me and Zorii,” he snapped. “I made you a General because I trust you, I  _ need _ you.” Tears threatened at the corners of his eyes; he set his jaw firm. “And- you know what?  _ Fine _ . I’m jealous. I’m jealous of Rey. That I don’t get to have  _ that _ with  _ you _ .” He pushed at Finn’s chest with an accusatory finger, and his whole arm started to burn. 

“Poe-”

“But I’m not gonna get in the way, ‘cause I’m  _ not _ an  _ asshole _ -”

“ _ Poe _ !” Finn slapped his hand away and tried to hold the offending limb still. “You’re  _ bleeding _ .” The bandage around the blaster wound, which had been clean moments ago, bloomed dark and sticky. 

“Leave it, ‘m fine,” Poe grumbled, pulling and wriggling and completely failing to free himself from Finn’s grip.

“Can you- hey, can you just stop, please?” Finn was quickly growing tired of Poe’s drunken fussing, and he was getting blood all over an otherwise clean shirt. “Stop it!” He held both of Poe’s wrists tight, pressed his knee hard against Poe’s thigh. Poe lifted his free leg up in a weak approximation of a kick. The effort felt enormous after the day they’d both had. The impasse continued for a few moments longer, both panting and struggling, until eventually Poe stopped resisting and went prone; Finn toppled and landed entirely on top of him. Poe looked up over the side of Finn’s neck, eyes glossy as he swallowed back a sob. A bright smudge of red stained the sleeve of Finn’s shirt.

“I hate this,” he wept.

“Stop fighting me, then,” said Finn, his voice more tired than angry, “let me help you.” 

Poe sniffed and cleared his throat. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, in a low murmur against Finn’s ear. 

“Can you k-?” Finn turned his head awkwardly to face him. “Yes?” A pause. “Wait,  _ why _ ?”

Poe couldn’t look anywhere except the moons, a set of blurry smudges through tears.

“Because I don’t know if I’ll ever be stupid enough to ask you again?” He sighed, a wet shudder through his whole body. Finn took a deep breath and pushed himself up until he was sat in Poe’s lap, shoulders sagging. 

“I don’t understand,” he said quietly. 

Poe coughed and hoisted himself into something like sitting up, on his good arm; the injured one swung loose at his side, leaden and throbbing. 

“Just once. If you don’t mind.” He shrugged lamely. “If Rey doesn’t mind.”

Finn searched Poe’s face with a squint like he was missing a punchline.

“Why would Rey…” he trailed off, and then his whole body twitched in surprise. “Oh.  _ Oh.  _ Is that- is  _ that _ what you think is going on?” 

Poe glared at him silently. Finn let out a short, husky laugh. “We’re just… Poe, we’re just friends.” 

“Then what’s with all the,” Poe waved his arm around dramatically in the small amount of space between them, “ _ secrets _ ?” His voice grew small and sad. “What couldn’t you say ‘cause I was there?”

“It’s…” Finn scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I thought, I  _ think _ … I can, uh. Feel it.” He looked away, at the grass, at nothing. “The Force.”

Poe wiped his eyes on the back of his arm and leaned in close. 

“Buddy, that’s...” He turned Finn’s face toward him. “That’s kind of amazing.”

Finn shrugged away from the touch. 

“It’s terrifying.” He folded his arms, unfolded them. “I was scared. I  _ am _ scared.”

Poe caught Finn’s jaw again, thumb pressing lightly into his cheek. 

“You don’t need to be scared, you’re safe here.”

“ _ I don’t wanna be a Jedi _ ,” Finn blurted. “I don’t even know if I  _ can _ . But I don’t  _ want _ to.” He flinched at his own words. “That makes me sound like I’m- like I’m running away, but…” He looked properly at Poe. “I’m. That’s not who I wanna be.”

“Well,” said Poe, determined to keep his voice steady, “who  _ do _ you want to be?”

“I don’t know. Normal?” He bit his lip thoughtfully. “A General. Or not. Just... here, with you, that’s enough.”

_ Just here, with you, that’s enough _ . 

Poe’s ears rang so hard he couldn’t tell if Finn had kept on talking; he was giddy, light-headed. It was definitely his heart exploding with joy, and definitely not feeling faint from blood-loss. His vision began to swim. Finn shook him by the shoulders, held his head upright in both hands. 

“Here with me,” Poe mumbled, “yeah, good.” Closing his eyes felt like the best idea ever. Finn slapped him, and then winced at how hard he’d done it. Poe groaned unhappily.

“Hey, look at me, stay awake,” Finn pleaded. “Look at me. You wanted to kiss me? So do it.”

Poe blinked long and slow, resisting the urge to just let his eyes roll back in his head. He gritted his teeth and raised both arms, touched Finn’s face with both hands; his eyes shone with fresh tears, Poe’s blood smeared across his brow. Even like this, exhausted and frightened, he was the most beautiful man Poe had ever seen. 

“I love you so much,” he whispered, nose buried in Finn’s cheek. 

Poe kissed Finn with all the tenderness he could muster from his failing body, as if this was the only opportunity he would ever get to show him just how much he mattered; as if this were the last moment he would have in this whole beautiful, wretched galaxy to tell him he was loved.  _ Just here, with you, _ he thought,  _ that’s enough _ . 

He reluctantly eased back, let his hands fall from Finn’s face. Finn looked dazzled, lips parted, eyes unfocused. 

“How long have you wanted to do that for?” he asked softly, after a moment’s silence. Poe smiled a small, sad smile. 

“Since I met you, I think.”

“Oh.” Finn touched his fingers to his lips, voice distant.

“Yeah.” Poe sniffed, wiped his nose on his shoulder. He stank of sweat, and metal: blood, munition, starfighter. Finn, a little bit; he held onto that. Finn nodded. 

“Do it again,” he said, and pulled Poe forward by his waist. 

Poe’s wounded arm refused to move any more, but he slung the good one under Finn’s in a tight embrace, cradling the back of Finn’s head in his hand. His fingertips grazed the soft, tight curls at the nape of his neck. Finn had an almost uncomfortably tight grip in Poe’s hair, the other hand balled in the front of Poe’s shirt. Poe sobbed between breaths, and Finn chased his mouth when he parted for air, half-laughing, half-crying. Eventually, Poe had to push him back with a weak, shaking fist against his chest. They sat there on the hill, entangled, panting, foreheads pressed together. Finn bumped his nose against Poe’s.

“You never said anything.”

“Yeah, well,” Poe huffed, “neither did you.”

Finn hummed in agreement. He traced the edge of the chain around Poe’s neck with his knuckles, the dark hair on Poe’s chest tickling the back of his hand.

“I love you,” he said, and then, again, “I love you,” as if he enjoyed the way the words sounded. Poe grinned, still breathless, rubbing lazy circles in the close-cropped hair behind Finn’s ear with his thumb.

“Hey,” he purred, “I don’t wanna stop doing this, at  _ all _ , but…” 

“Oh. Oh,  _ no _ . Your arm.” Finn’s eyes went wide with panic. “We, we need to-”

“Hey, hey,  _ shh _ , easy.” Poe lay his head on Finn’s shoulder. “I just, uh, need a little help getting back down to base.” 

“Yeah, of course, sure. Help. I can do that.” Finn tipped Poe’s head up to kiss him—a quick, gentle touch to the corner of his mouth— and then crawled free from the knot of limbs. He bent down to scoop Poe into his arms. Poe laughed and swatted him away.

“No way! You’re drunk!”

“ _ You’re _ drunk,” Finn retorted, “ _ I’m _ helping,” and lifted him up like an unruly bride. Poe yelped and hung onto Finn as tightly as he could manage. 

“Stars, you’re strong,” he murmured, tucking his head in the crook of Finn’s neck. Finn couldn’t shrug, because he was carrying a grown man in his arms.

“Trooper armour’s heavy,” he said, matter-of-factly. Poe couldn’t argue with that. He let Finn take him down to the bottom of the hill, but insisted on walking to the camp on his own two feet, where he was immediately accosted and shooed into a medbay.


	7. at ease

The sun shone bright and clear over Ajan Kloss, and the forest had returned to its regular quiet hum of activity. Morale was high across the entire base as the Resistance planned its next moves to restore justice and freedom to the galaxy. Poe walked through a sea of busy terminals, a steaming cup of caf in his good hand; the other rested in a neat sling at his chest.

“Overnight reports for you, sir,” said a voice from behind him. A datapad hovered at the edge of his vision.

“Captain Connix! G’morning.” He turned, and her face fell.

“Blast- one hand-I forgot. Sorry, Poe. Uh, sir.”

Poe laughed and put his cup down on a crate, took the pad from her.

“At ease, Kaydel. I’m just temporarily grounded, not Luke Skywalker.” He wiggled his fingers in the sling as proof. She gave him a relieved smile. “This all looks great. Check the numbers on that dispatch to Lothal, but I think it’s good to go.” He handed her back the pad. “How’re you doing? New assignment’s working well?”

“Yes, brilliantly. Thank you, again.”

“You earned it,” said Poe, and gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. He picked up his cup, took an experimental sip— still too hot— and kept walking. 

Finn was deep in conversation with Jannah and Jeyelle when Poe approached him in the war room. ‘War room’ felt like a bad descriptor; they were no longer at war, and the repurposed shipping container didn’t feel like much of a room, either. Still, the long table in the center of the space was covered in reports and maps, with a large holo-projection gently illuminating their faces. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Poe called from the threshold, tapping his foot against the frame.

Jannah looked up and gave Finn a gentle whack on the arm. Finn scowled, offended, until he realised what she’d motioned to him for. When he looked up from the map in front of him, Poe fell in love all over again.

“General.” 

“General!” Their little ritual greeting would never get old. 

“ _ You _ missed  _ breakfast _ ,” Poe scolded. 

“Well, that’s rude,” Jeyelle muttered. Finn looked back with another scowl.

“Hey, I was busy! Helping! Helping  _ you _ !” 

Jannah cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Mm, and at what cost? Leaving your man hanging?”

Finn made a flustered noise that Poe couldn’t help but laugh at. He stepped around the table and Finn slid an arm around his waist, gave him an apologetic kiss. Poe offered him the cup, which he gratefully took.

“Missed  _ you _ this morning,” he murmured, nose pressed to Finn’s jaw.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Finn whispered, smiling into Poe’s hair.

“Oh, will you now?”

“When have I ever let you down?”

“Mm, made your point.” Poe kissed the corner of his mouth. “Alright, I better get back to it. I got cadets to train in fifteen.” He looked over Finn’s shoulder. “Eh, make that ten.”

Finn hugged him firmly, snuck a parting kiss before Poe slipped out from under his arm.

“See you tonight.”

“Counting on it!”

Finn took a sip of caf and smiled contentedly.

“Hey, before you go.”

Poe stopped in the doorway, tilted his head in question.

“I love you,” said Finn. 

“I know,” said Poe.


End file.
